


Red in Tooth

by the_ragnarok



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biting, Blood Kink, M/M, vampire kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2024865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles squirms. “Like, they have the whole narcotic bite thing? And I kind of like having things in my mouth but people are wusses and it’s like, <i>No, Stiles, it hurts, No, Stiles, I need to retain the use of my fingers,</i> and at some point I started fantasizing about biting that made whoever just melt and let me—”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red in Tooth

Given the influx of supernatural beings in Beacon Hills, including ones Derek didn’t even know existed (phoenixes. Why.), he thinks he’s justified in asking Stiles, “Are you a vampire?”

Stiles attempts to give Derek a look of big-eyed innocence. It doesn’t work very well, since his teeth still being firmly lodged in Derek’s hand. He lets go to say. “Um. No?” His heartbeat speeds up, and Derek tenses. He gazes around the room. Just his fucking luck, not a stick of wood in sight.

Not that he’d want to stake Stiles. Much. “I can tell when you’re lying, you know.”

Stiles shoves back, face alight with indignation. He’s really unfairly attractive like that. “Yeah, because I have a beating heart. Doesn’t that work against your little hypothesis?”

Derek studies Stiles’s face. “You’re misdirecting,” he says, with a small amount of surprise. “So what is it about vampires you’re not telling me? And why not?”

“That’s between there’s nothing to— oof,” Stiles says when Derek tackles him to the bed.

Getting the admission out of Stiles requires some lengthy tickling and possibly some strategic teasing involving Derek’s mouth and Stiles’s erection, straining against the confines of his pants. But eventually Stiles pants, “Fuck! I just like thinking about it, okay?”

“Hmm?” Derek says, nosing idly at the wet spot he’d made at the front of Stiles’s pants.

“About being a vampire. About.” Stiles squirms. “Like, they have the whole narcotic bite thing? And I kind of like having things in my mouth but people are wusses and it’s like,  _No, Stiles, it hurts, No, Stiles, I need to retain the use of my fingers,_ and at some point I started fantasizing about biting that made whoever just melt and let me—”

Stiles pauses. Wets his lips. Drags his calf, experimentally, across the bulge in Derek’s pants. Derek’s been interested since they started wrestling. But now, with the low tone of Stiles’s voice, his body shifting minutely under Derek’s, his scent…. Derek’s not made of stone, alright?

“Hey,” Stiles says. “So, would you let me?”

Something in Derek wants to go automatically Yes to anything Stiles says in that tone of voice. Derek’s trying to constrain it, though; being unable to refuse Stiles tends to end up with running naked around the preserve but for some runes painted across his skin.

And okay, maybe that was just once and they caught the warlock afterwards, but still. Derek has to take care. So he cautiously says, “Maybe.”

Stiles lights up, though, his smile threatening to split his face. Derek mournfully recalls the days when Stiles was intimidated by Derek’s poker face. “You’re totally gonna let me,” Stiles crows.

“Not if you’re obnoxious about it,” Derek grumbles.

Stiles takes that as the sop to Derek’s pride it’s meant to be and ignores it soundly. He eels out from under Derek, putting his warm hands over Derek’s biceps to move him. When Stiles is done, Derek’s leaning against the headboard with Stiles straddling his lap, his face hidden in the crook of Derek’s neck.

It’s nice like that. Stiles’s breath tickles Derek’s throat; reflexively, he swallows.

“Just let me,” Stiles whispers, before he fastens his lips around the spot where Derek’s neck meets his shoulders. He starts off with careful suction, just soft wet warmth, nothing sharp about it at all. It’s lulling, easy to fall into. Easy for Derek’s eyelids to slip shut, for his hand to find its place on Stiles’s flank. Not pushing, not leading, not holding him in place. Just trying to keep some sort of connection.

When Stiles brings his teeth into play, Derek almost jumps. Stiles is stroking circles on his chest, though, and humming. Mindlessly, aimlessly rubbing his erection against Derek’s thigh, slow and leisurely. Arousal rises off him like the scent of fresh bread, and it all works together to calm Derek right back down.

“Shh, you’re good,” Stiles says, and then he’s back and putting a little more force behind his teeth.

Wouldn’t take much more for Stiles to break skin. Derek surprises himself by hissing, “Do it.”

For once, Stiles doesn’t draw it out, doesn’t tease words out of Derek by pretending to misunderstand. Just sinks his teeth good and hard into Derek’s skin, and Derek’s startled by the realization that Stiles must have wanted this pretty badly, to ignore the chance to play with Derek.

“Fuck,” Derek groans. He tries to move and finds himself stilled by Stiles’s hands on him, quieted.

“Shh,” Stiles repeats. “Let me.” He unzips Derek’s fly with quick, fumbling motions, getting a good grip on Derek’s cock. Derek groans and opens his eyes, because the sight of Stiles’s long fingers holding him never gets old.

There’s just a hint of red on Stiles’s lips. They curve into a grin as he rises to kneel above Derek, crawling backwards on the bed until he’s looking right at Derek’s cock. “You know what I really like to think about? Femoral artery, man. Prime vampire spot, and just right next to—” Stiles brushes his mouth over the inside of Derek’s thigh, his breath wafting hot right against Derek’s balls. Derek twitches. Stiles smirks. “You see what I mean.”

There’s a question in a his gaze, though, one Derek answers by nodding as fast as he can.

Stiles sinks down unhurried, getting Derek warmed up the way he did with his neck, sucking and licking at the skin. Then he holds Derek’s gaze, nods microscopically - whether the gesture was even intended at Derek or just Stiles talking nonverbally to himself, he has no idea - and bites down.

It’s even better like this, slight pain running up his pelvis, perilously close to his dick. It’s spitting precome now, wetting Stiles’s fingers, and Stiles smooths his thumb over the head of Derek’s cock and bites deeper.

Derek can feel the skin break. He does not care, not even one little bit.

Finally Stiles lets go, only to take Derek’s dick in his mouth with a hungry little moan. He’s rubbing off desperately against Derek’s calf; when Derek feels Stiles convulse against him, smells his come on the air, he’s a little guilty but mostly just turned on as all fuck.

Stiles swallows, when Derek comes, rises right up to kiss the taste into Derek’s mouth. That much is the same as always. What’s new is the faint metal tang mixed in with Stiles’s taste, with Derek’s own. Derek draws back, blinks, then comes back to kiss Stiles harder.

Even his pants being in serious need of laundry doesn’t put a dent in Stiles’s smug post-coital smirk. “Hah. You’re totally into the vampire thing now. I totally turned you,” he pauses dramatically, “on.” Then proceeds to snigger.

Fantasy aside, there’s only one person in this bed with supernatural strength; within a few seconds Stiles is flat on his back, blinking up at Derek. “If you turned me,” Derek drawls, tilting his head, “that might explain a few urges I have.”

Stiles’s squeak when Derek sinks his teeth (not deep enough to break skin, but possibly hard enough to bruise) into Stiles’s forearm is pretty damn satisfying, even if his dick still isn’t up for reacting yet.


End file.
